Qi Zhimu returned to the Bamboo House, opened the encrypted safe, took out a special dicine, and swallowed one pill.
Soon, his appearance reverted to that of a young man.
This made his body feel much better, no different from a young person, though only temporarily... "ow~"
A soft, cotton-like ow sounded at his feet, its tail drawn out, gently catching his attention.
A soft, furry touch brushed his ankle. Qi Zhimu looked down to see an orange cat squatting at his feet, looking up at him.
In its usually lazy eyes, there seed to be a hint of worry.
"I'm fine."
Placing the dicine back in the safe, Qi Zhimu bent down and picked up the cat, rubbing its head.
"Ti to lose so weight, Little Orange."
"ow~~"
Little Orange softly responded, as if saying, "Next ti for sure."
"In another hundred days, I won't be able to take care of you like this. Being too fat isn't good for your health, you know?"
Little Orange seed to understand, or perhaps not entirely, as its head affectionately rubbed against Qi Zhimu's palm.
Its furry paws rested on his wrist, giving a sense of reluctance.
Qi Zhimu smiled, holding Little Orange as he walked to the windowsill and sat down.
He picked up the a type of chinese lute hanging nearby, and his slender fingers gently plucked the strings.
Soft lodies slowly flowed, rging with the late autumn wind.
Outside the window, the green bamboo swayed, still vibrant, with a few pale yellow withered leaves occasionally falling.
In the plum forest far up the mountain, a faint fragrance was already quietly accumulating for its winter bloom.
Little Orange lay on Qi Zhimu's lap. The wind blowing past the window carried a slight chill, and it unconsciously curled into a ball.
Under the lodious tune, Little Orange's breathing gradually beca regular.
Sparse leaves of late bamboo bid farewell to green shadows, the autumn window's cold strings send forth a lonely sound.
The wind passed through the bamboo tips, scattering the last wisp of string music, stirring Qi Zhimu's thoughts.
Ruan i loved the Ruan instrunt.
She never intentionally taught Qi Zhimu, but he beca self-taught through imrsion.
Seeing this, Ruan i gave him an a type of chinese lute.
She also liked fragrant and delicious pastries, especially those made with plum blossom-related ingredients.
Similarly, she never intentionally taught Qi Zhimu, yet he still self-learned, spending several years to make pastries that even his teacher couldn't find fault with.
After that, during the ti before he completed his apprenticeship, he was responsible for daily als.
Most of the knowledge his teacher taught concerned the subject of life.
Recalling all the warmth of the past, Qi Zhimu couldn't help but feel emotional.
His life was unfortunate, yet also fortunate.
At the age of six, he collapsed with several fleeing refugees in an apocalyptic war, contracting a deadly virus.
The blurry face he saw before closing his eyes was Ruan i.
The blurry face he saw after opening his eyes was also Ruan i.
"Do you want to live?"
She asked, her tone ethereal, devoid of emotion.
"...Yes..."
He answered simply, a single word born of pure survival instinct.
And so, Qi Zhimu lived.
Ruan i made no promises, but spent several years successfully analyzing the virus and curing him, her test subject.
At eleven, he beca Ruan i's student.
He learned quickly and extensively, his days full.
At eighteen, his teacher got angry for the first and only ti, severely punishing Qi Zhimu for a mistake he made.
He couldn't quite rember the specific details, only that it had sothing to do with breaking rules.
"ow~"
Little Orange suddenly jumped to the ground.
Qi Zhimu snapped out of his mories, glanced at the sky, and a faint surprise flashed in his eyes.
He carefully hung the a type of chinese lute back in its place and walked towards the door.
A girl in a deep purple long dress, leading a middle-aged woman with a veil over her head and a sowhat bewildered look in her eyes, walked towards the Bamboo House.
"Mr. Qi!"
Catching sight of the tall figure, the girl waved from afar, her expression a little complex.
There was both anticipation and unease.
Purple-haired girl
Qi Zhimu understood why the two had co. As they approached, he smiled and nodded.
"Follow ."
The girl, familiar with the way, led her mother to follow Mr. Qi into the Bamboo House and through a hidden passage.
No one looking from the outside would ever guess that a fully equipped dical room was hidden within the ordinary Bamboo House.
"Please lie down, Ms. Durand."
The middle-aged woman t those eyes that radiated peace and kindness. Her bewildered expression didn't lessen, and she instinctively looked at the girl beside her.
"Mother, Mr. Qi is the doctor who will treat you. Don't worry, you'll rember everything soon."
"Oh, alright..." Ms. Durand complied.
After a series of examinations, the diagnosis showed slight differences from previous tis.
Placing the treatnt device on Ms. Durand's head, Qi Zhimu pressed a button, closing the dical pod and beginning the treatnt.
"This treatnt session will last 17 hours. Please wait outside."
"...It's suddenly three hours longer, this..." Clarice was a little uneasy, her small face showing worry.
"Don't worry. Judging by your complexion, you probably haven't eaten yet. Have sothing first," Qi Zhimu gently patted Clarice's light purple long hair.
The girl's full na was Clarice Durand, a resident of a Neighboring Star World.
She had sought dical help for her mother's amnesia for many years, finally finding Mr. Qi, a recluse in the mountains far from the hustle and bustle of a neighboring planet, through various rumors.
Ms. Durand had been receiving treatnt from Qi Zhimu for five years, steadily worsening.
From once a year initially, to now less than once every two months.
The ti required for treatnt had also steadily increased.
Living Room.
The pastries that used to taste incredibly delicious, Clarice now couldn't taste much.
Most of her thoughts were on her mother's illness.
At this rate, one day, her mother would completely forget everyone, including herself, and never rember again.
Witnessing the girl's dull expression, Qi Zhimu sighed inwardly and poured her a cup of plum blossom brew.
Less than two years old.
Not to ntion the adult girl, even his younger self couldn't get drunk from it.
The clear, slightly yellowish brew emitted a fresh, fragrant aroma.
Just a sniff, and Clarice unconsciously sipped half the cup, a faint blush rising on her pretty face.
The elegant plum blossom fragrance filled her mouth, slightly easing the sorrow in the girl's heart.
"Thank you, Mr. Qi..."
"Cough, cough, cough—"
Before Clarice could finish her thanks, Qi Zhimu suddenly coughed violently, turning his back to her and covering his mouth, suppressing his discomfort.
"Mr. Qi, are you alright?!" Clarice's face showed tension and concern.
Glancing at the crimson in his palm, Qi Zhimu subtly shook his head, his tone normal.
"...It's nothing. Winter is approaching; I likely caught a chill last night."
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